Arcadia
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: Lassiter and O'Hara go undercover in a Psych version of the X-Files episode 6x13 "Arcadia." Lassiet


"My name is Doris Dallas. I am twenty-nine and originally from Manhattan. I am married to Roque Dallas, head marketer for Chicago Medical Supplies."

Her thumb worried the polished gold band on her left hand's ring finger, still getting used to the new feeling. Countless other cops had worn this ring while going undercover and she was just another number to be added to its tally.

Her flaxen hair had been lightened further from the honey yellow to fair ash blonde, no brown roots showing at all. It was clipped back with barrettes and the hairdresser had given her feathery bangs, which bothered her forehead and she wished she could pin them back, too, but _Doris_ had bangs and _Doris_ loved them.

Apparently, Doris also liked acrylic fingernails with French tip, which O'Hara quickly found were irritating and impractical; she wanted her short and functional natural nails, lacquered in her favourite shade of petal pink. She had spent the past week and a half relearning how to properly shampoo her scalp, put on her trousers, and unload a full clip from her handgun, though she was absolutely going to get them shortened the next time she got them filled in. She scowled at the thought of another forty minutes in her future spent breathing in chemical fumes and listening to the manicurist tell her about Jerry Springer while snapping her gum.

An initial pendent in the letter "D" hung from a thin silver chain, enchased with small diamonds that caught in the afternoon sun. Her "engagement" ring had a large light pink diamond haloed with small diamonds and even though it was gaudy as hell, she secretly couldn't help liking the way it looked on her finger. Diamonds might not be her best friend, but they were certainly were growing on her. There was a jeweler who owed the department a few favours, and the expensive baubles the "Dallas' " sported was the least he could do to help.

She was wearing a red cashmere cardigan over a comfortable camisole and a pair of very expensive jeans that she had treated herself to last Christmas. Red patent peep toe pumps so everyone could see the best pedicure she had ever had in her life (she had already taken a picture of it with her new cellphone's camera just to prove that she'd actually _had_ it).

Her partner Carlton Lassiter, driver and pseudo-husband for this case, rolled his eyes and watched the moving trucks behind them before complaining, "Do you really have to keep repeating yourself? I've heard you say that about a billion times and I'm starting to think that _I'm _Doris Dallas."

"You're **Roque** Dallas. Not Doris," she assured, then huffed, wishing that she could turn the radio back on; she wanted to at least have some music to take her mind off the excitement and nervousness of going on her first deep undercover case, but Lassiter had become tired of her singing along to Kelly Clarkson, so they were riding in general silence.

"Who came up with that last name? _Dallas_? Seriously?" he carped as he checked the rearview mirror and merged into the farthest right lane for the upcoming turn-off.

She shrugged and played with the lavaliere hanging around her neck. "I've seen worse. What I'm worried about is someone getting suspicious about our first names. Doris and Roque? Buzz McNabb shouldn't have been allowed to watch that "Doris Day & Rock Hudson Comedy Collection" in the break room. And why did the chief allow him to pick the undercover names?"

"Dallas," Carlton seethed, his fingers tightening over the leather-covered steering wheel and Juliet smiled.

"Roque Dallas" was attired in a light pink polo shirt, navy sweater draped over his shoulders and chinos, something Carlton Lassiter would probably have never worn in a million years. Juliet was secretly excited that she'd get to see her partner so out of his element, a fact that also made her nervous as hell. He seemed to have embraced the matching wedding ring with ease, but she reminded herself that he had some previous experience in that matter, both in undercover and in marriage.

She turned the air conditioning down from 3 to 2, though her hand had hardly returned to her lap before he had changed it back to 3 once more. She let out a forlorn sigh and he snapped,

"What is it now?"

"Nothing!" she said defensively, then pondered to break the silence. "What do you think they're doing at the department right now?"

"I'm sure they're lost without us," he grumbled.

She readjusted her sunglasses. "What do you think Shawn and Gus are doing without anyone to bother?"

Her partner snorted. "Hard to say. I doubt they've ever done anything that doesn't bother someone."

"Maybe they're off scaring away ghosts or channeling the spirits of the recently deceased."

"O'Hara…" he sighed, flipping the turn signal so they could exit the freeway.

Now she was on a roll, ignoring him completely. "Or assisting Buzz with that wedding anniversary gift he has to get Florence before Friday."

"God help him," her partner muttered sympathetically

"Or maybe—"

Carlton raised a hand. "Hold that that thought while I call in that guy."

"What now?" she asked, scanning the other cars on the offramp.

He pointed to a white jeep just ahead of them, looking scandalized. "He's driving while talking on the phone!"

"Let's let highway patrol deal with it, Carlton. We can't keep reporting people—we're supposed to be prospective homebuyers, not cops!" Juliet argued, rolling her eyes.

"Fine," he sighed.

The nervous feeling was returning and she played with her fake nails a bit, then readjusted her cardigan as she looked out the windows at the pretty neighborhoods and kitschy businesses they were passing by. Her partner was remaining quiet and even though she wondered what he was thinking, she decided it was best to allow him his silence while he drank from a long since cooled cup of Starbucks.

It was another ten minutes before they rolled up to the front gates of what would be their new home for the next few months, the two moving trucks idling behind them. Carlton rolled down the driver's window and Juliet sat up a bit in her seat to see whatever her partner was looking at. Almost immediately a mechanical woman's voice emanated from a little speaker on a mounted box that also had a keypad.

"Welcome to The Estates of Arcadia. Please enter your code now."

Apparently he hadn't pulled over close enough, his fingers just out of reach of the buttons.

"Dang it," he mumbled, as he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned further out the open window.

"Welcome to The Estates of Arcadia. Please enter your code now," the voice repeated.

"Our number is 3015311," Juliet offered helpfully as she took off her sunglasses and pushed them back like a headband.

"Welcome to The Estates of Arcadia. Please—"

"Hang ON!" he snapped.

"—code now. Welcome to—"

The voice was silenced when Carlton savagely jabbed their code for the gate into the number pad.

"Welcome home, Mr. Dallas," the mechanical voice greeted.

Carlton looked impressed and commented, "Impressive."

"Invasive," Juliet added.

He shut the door and quickly drove forward so the moving trucks could follow them in before the gates shut.

The Estates of Arcadia Gated Community had been rated among the top planned communities in the US for the past six years running, which was pretty good, considering it had only been open eight. Built on a hillside right on the edge of Santa Barbara County, the community was relatively small—the base made into a full golf course and past that, a few small shops like a grocery store and a gift store. As the hill sloped upwards, there were tennis courts, basketball courts, and the start of the large houses and their grandiose yards. The houses weren't anything near what the ones up in Bel Air looked like, but they impressed Juliet just the same. With the way the California housing costs were in the past couple of years, she knew that these places would cost a pretty penny.

"Don't look now, O'Hara, but I think we've just entered Stepford," Carlton smirked and Juliet had to agree.

"Wow, this is really…"

"Ominous?"

"I was going to say creepy, but yes, ominous works." She felt like pressing her nose against the car door window. "Oh, wow! Look at that house!"

"Get those directions out of your purse; I want to make sure I'm headed up the right way."

She quickly dug them out and passed the computer printouts over to Carlton so she could continue sightseeing. He grumbled about having to do all the work, but she ignored him. The yards seemed to contain more trees and manicured lawns and hedges the farther up the hill they went. Residents out watering rose bushes and others collecting mail all waved at their passing vehicle, cheerful smiles on their face that Juliet returned with equal amounts of enthusiasm.

"It's hard to believe anything bad could happen here," he commented offhandedly and she nodded, feeling that build of sinister well in her stomach, the same feeling when she first saw the crime scene photos that were taken in the gated community.

They continued the drive in a straight line up further and further, past cookie cutter houses, large lawns and poplars and oaks. Finally they made a right turn, then a left and Carlton slowed the vehicle down so they could spot the home of Doris and Roque Dallas, which she recognised instantly from the case file.

Her partner pointed to it, on his side, and said in almost an awestricken voice. "Here's home sweet home."

A petite china doll of a woman stood by their mailbox with a gift basket and Juliet squeezed her partner's shoulder.

"Ready?"

Lassiter smirked and said boldly, "I was _born_ ready, O'Hara."

The SUV pulled alongside the yard of 450 Forest Drive and game face on, Juliet hopped out of the door, immediately placing her hands on her hips, ready to make her first performance as Doris Dallas.

"Wow," she said loudly, admiring the house and then turned to look at Lassiter, who was stretching his legs as he climbed out of the SUV. "Take a look at this. Honey, what do you think? Is this place us, or what?"

She flashed him a smile and a wink as she hurried over to his side of the vehicle, just as the woman with the gift basket approached them. She was a brassy brunette with the looks of a cheesecake model and the smile of a pageant queen, a few inches shorter than Juliet.

She thrust out her hand, balancing the basket against her hip and said brightly, "Hi! You must be the Dallas'. I'm Bonnie Matthenson, your neighbor! Welcome to The Estates of Arcadia!"

Juliet quickly accepted Bonnie's hand and was surprised by the other woman's strong grip and steady shake. "I'm Doris and this is my husband, Roque. It's great to meet you!"

It was Carlton's turn to shake the woman's hand and the tiny woman beamed up at him while saying, "Roque? That's an unusual name."

"My mother's maiden name. French. R-O-Q-U-E," he replied and his arm comfortably draped over Juliet's shoulders, pulling her a little closer to him.

Juliet nearly complimented her partner on his awesome acting but Bonnie's cheerful voice distracted her.

"How delightful! And paired with such an American last name." Bonnie looked down her arms, almost a little surprised to see the offering still there in her possession. "Oh! Silly me! Here's your welcoming gift basket—"

There was a smirking noise behind them and they all turned to see a tall bottle blonde advancing towards them.

"Oh, Bonnie," the woman said, a catty smile on her face, "you didn't have to go through the trouble when Louis and I already bought one." An even larger gift basket was thrust into Lassiter's chest and the woman introduced herself. "Janey Williams. I live six doors down, in the yellow house on the corner."

Juliet offered out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dor—"

Janey cut her off without a handshake. "Doris and Row-k Dallas."

Carlton was quick to correct as he struggled to balance the oversized giftbasket while offering his hand. "It's pronounced "_Rock_," like rock and roll."

"That's French, Janey," Bonnie added, a sharp edge to her voice and Juliet made the mental note of thinly veiled hostility between these two residents.

Janey gave a tart smile to Bonnie. "Well, I'm so glad you two have moved into The Estates of Arcadia. As head of The Estates Home Owner's Association, I'd like to be the first to extend my hand in welcome. We'd love to have you two over for dinner tonight."

Bonnie replied before the detectives could. "Actually Janey, the Dallas' are going to come to our house for dinner tonight."

"Uh—" Carlton stuttered.

"Well then, you can come over tomorrow."

Juliet nodded. "All right. Thank you, Janey."

Janey gave them all a very pasted on smile as she turned to leave. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doris and Roque. Make sure you're moved in by six."

"Pardon?" Carlton asked.

Janey paused. "You'll have to be moved in by six tonight or have the movers come back tomorrow. It's in the CC 'n Rs? One of the rules."

"I'm sure we'll make it," Carlton said and Juliet could sense the tense feeling among the four of them.

"Bonnie," Janey said flatly and then left.

Mrs. Matthenson regained her sunny disposition and declared, "Oh, this is so fun! Two new couples moving into the neighborhood today!"

"We're not the only ones?" Juliet said, a little concerned. There hadn't been any mention that someone else moving in today.

"No! See that little house up there? The light blue one? They arrived about an hour before you did and I'm just heading over to say hello. You two should come!"

Juliet could see they really didn't have a choice, so she linked her arm with Lassiter's and gave a smile.

"Sounds like fun."

They strode across the street, following their new, affable neighbor past a few houses and up towards the light blue home. 'Across the street and two houses up,' she thought, making the effort to memorise as much as she could. As the three got closer they spotted a blue car in the driveway that looked very familiar and Juliet gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Wow, that car looks a lot like…"

Her eyes caught the license plate and she trailed off. Apparently her partner recognized the numbers and letters as well.

"Oh, Jesus," he muttered darkly.

There was a man wearing a plaid shirt leaning over a few boxes by the open garage door and Bonnie quickly called out.

"Hello, new neighbors! I'm Bonnie Matthenson—"

The man spun around. "Pineapple? It's the fruit of hospitality."

Juliet and Carlton stopped dead in their tracks, dumbfounded that it could

It _was_ Shawn Spencer.

Bonnie clapped her hands in delight, oblivious to the two stunned detectives behind her. "Oh! What a classic gift! And I make the greatest pineapple upside down cake, too."

Shawn motioned towards the house, where Gus appeared in the front doorway, hurrying over stand beside the psychic. "That's good to know. I'm Shawn "Quixotic" Nelson and this is my partner, Gus "Magic Fingers" Grant.

Bonnie fumbled with the pineapple now in her hands. "Partners! Oh, how wonderful! Michael and I were talking just the other day about how nice it would be to have gay friends—and it looks like you've saved us the trouble of having to go out and find them ourselves!" she hurried across the road towards her husband who was coming their way. "Look, Michael! They're homosexual and interracial!"

The brunette out of hearing range, Carlton grabbed Shawn by the front of his shirt and snarled, "Spencer what the HELL are you doing here?!"

Shawn nonchalauntly squirmed out of the detective's hold. "Chief didn't tell you? We're going undercover to help you! We're a pretty hot commodity." He winked at Juliet. "So we're in on the scoop, _Roque and Doris_."

Before she could grill them further, the Matthensons returned to the driveway, halting all talk between the undercover quartet.

"I want you to meet my husband, Michael."

Shawn offered out his hand. "You're a very handsome man, Michael. I'm Shawn "Totally Awesome" Nelson and this is my partner, Gus "Legendary" Grant."

"I thought you were "Quixotic" and he was "Magic Fingers"," Lassiter said, sounding irritated.

"We go by many names, Frowny-Face. I know it must be hard to listen to someone have an abundance of nicknames when you have none."

"I do too have a nickname!" the head detective protested, then quickly added what he considered his moniker to be. "Sir!"

"And I have pet names for him. Don't I, _kitten_?" Juliet soothed, sympathetically patting his arm.

Michael cleared his throat. "So, what do you do for a living?"

"Ooh! Let me guess! Actors!" Bonnie suggested.

Shawn gave a flourish of his hand. "I am the actor and Gus is the _artiste_. Perhaps you saw his recent exhibition in Prague?"

"Uh, maybe. We really had to breeze through our art shows when we were there." Bonnie looked very interested in the new duo on the block. "Will you be doing any local shows?"

Gus glared at Shawn and said sourly, "I've had a hard time channeling my muse lately."

Bonnie lit up. "Ooh, do you do commissions?"

"Sometimes—"

"Yes, he does. But only for exorbitant amounts of money," Shawn interrupted.

"I have this big empty space in my dining room—let me show you—and I'd LOVE to have some real art in there," Bonnie said, dragging him by the arm towards the Matthenson residence.

Michael attempted conversation with Shawn. "So, you do acting? Movies, television, small theater?"

"All of the above. I mostly do work as an extra for the silver screen, but I'm working on a film for Sundance, main character."

"Sounds exciting," her partner said sarcastically.

"It is, Grumbly-Pants. I play a dolfinologist—"

Carlton threw up his hands. "I'm going to go make sure the movers are being careful with our boxes."

As they watched a grumbling Carlton Lassiter leave the driveway, Michael asked,

"Is he all right?"

Her cheeks turned a little red. "My husband's a little cranky from the long drive. We had a hard time getting to sleep last night."

Juliet felt like smacking her palm against her forehead as she saw the two men's reactions—Michael humoured and Shawn alarmed.

"We were really excited. Moving into our first actual house and all," she added to clarify the matter.

Shawn began to talk again about being a "dolfinologist" and by the time everyone was thouroughly confused about what this Sundance film was about, Bonnie and Gus returned, the latter looking a little perturbed.

"I hope you're not too busy Wednesday; I hold a weekly luncheon for all the wives of The Estates of Arcadia and they're just dying to meet all of you…oh, I'd love for one of you to come," she gestured between psychic and sidekick, "but I don't know which one of you is the wife."

Gus put a hand on Shawn's shoulder. "We have an equal partnership. We'll both go."

"Oh! Sounds lovely!"

Juliet realised she wasn't going to get anywhere with Shawn or Gus with the Matthensons there. She put Doris' friendly smile back on her face and said,

"I should really check on the movers."

"We'll expect you at seven," Bonnie called out.

Juliet nodded. "Sounds fun."

Upon arriving back at the Dallas residence, she found Lassiter bossing and directing the movers around.

"Careful with that! It says delicate!" he barked.

"Oh, let me take those!" Juliet rushed over to the mover and grabbed the box out of his hands. "They're my teacups."

Her partner raised an eyebrow. "Teacups?"

She shrugged her shoulders as she carried her treasures into the house, her partner trailing close behind. "I've collected a few over the years and I thought they would fit here."

"Tea cups?" he asked again, as though he hadn't heard her right the first time nor the reference after that.

"Yeah, though I'm not much of a tea drinker," she said, setting the fragile box on the kitchen counter, safely planted against the wall.

"I never pictured you to be the type to collect tea cups," he said suspiciously.

"Only a few, Carlton! Get over it!"

"I was just _saying_," he grumbled.

The last mover came in, wheeling a file cabnate on a battered dolly. "Last of the boxes, sir."

Carlton nodded and the movers left, the trucks driving out of sight. "We made the six o'clock deadline with two and a half hours to spare."

Juliet realised there was still something very important left undiscussed. "Which one of us gets the master bedroom? I think I should, because I need the bigger closet."

He shook his head. "No way, O'Hara. I call it."

"We need to draw straws or something," she demanded.

"You owe me. For getting you out of work early last month so you could make that sale at Nordstrom," he said pointedly.

She groaned, realising she really did owe him. "Damn."

"There are three guestrooms to choose from," he said smugly.

She sighed and pushed the foreign feeling bangs off her forhead.

"Let's take a peek in the gift baskets!" she offered, wanting to have a bit of fun after the strange turn of events involving Shawn and Gus' arrival at The Estates.

He eyed the gift baskets still sitting on the counter. "Okay, but then we have to conduct the investigation of the basement."

"Deal."

She tore open the cellophane top to the big basket that Janey Williams had given them while Carlton took on the smaller welcoming gift.

"Olives," she declared, the first thing she pulled out of the shredded paper filler.

He set the smaller packages on the counter. "Sugar cookies, gingersnaps, candied orange peels."

"Pretzels, jam, water crackers…"

"Two mugs with The Estates emblem. Oh, I am so keeping these when we have to return to the station," her partner declared as he studied them and Juliet had to agree, the mugs would make for a pretty cool story later on.

The sound of the front door opening made them lean across the counter to look out towards the entranceway and who waltzed in but Shawn and Gus, the former carrying a large pineapple in his arms.

"Hello, you two. I see you got the same gift baskets we did—oh, what? You got mustard pretzels? And we didn't?!"

Lassiter hurled the bag at them. "Take them and shut up!"

Gus ducked while Shawn leaned against the counter casually, setting the pineapple down. "So Mr. and Mrs. Dallas, what brings you here to The Estates of Arcadia?"

Juliet was not in a humoured mood, however, and crossed her arms. "Enough of the games, Shawn. What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are, Jules. Chief Vick wanted us to help you with the case you're working on, so we're going undercover to help you—"

"You feel okay using tax payer money to play games, Spencer?" Carlton interrupted.

Shawn shrugged. "I don't pay taxes, so, no, I don't feel bad. However, we aren't using the citizen's money for our surveillance. Chief Vick called up Mr. Taft at the head of The Estates of Arcadia and asked if she could have a second group, us, go undercover. Mr. Taft has seen our success record and agreed to put us on board with this case."

Juliet narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "When?"

"Friday night," Gus answered.

"Why didn't she tell us about this?" Carlton asked, crossing his arms

Juliet frowned, adding, "Yeah, Shawn. This isn't something small—what if you had blown our cover?"

"You mean, what if _you_ had blown _your_ cover." Shawn strutted around the kitchen restlessly, obviously uncomfortable with standing still for so long. "Chief Vick was supposed to call you right about now—"

The cell phone clipped to Lassiter's belt rang,

"—and she would tell you that we were going to be right up the street."

The head detective grabbed the cellphone and shouted into it, "Chief, WHAT THE HELL are Spencer and Guster doing here?!"

Juliet pulled Shawn and Gus by the elbows into the hallway; once they were out of Carlton's shouting range, she narrowed her eyes and hissed,

"If you listen to only one thing I say, let it be this: if you mess up this case for us in ANY way, I will never forgive either of you." Shawn opened his mouth to protest, but Juliet cut him off. "**No**, Shawn. Going undercover always puts us in a vulnerable spot and The Estates of Arcadia isn't the safest place at the moment. Any mistakes and we could be killed. Or worse."

Shawn raised his hand like Scout's Honour. "You have our word that we will not mess this up, Doris Dallas."

Gus nodded. "We won't ruin this for you."

"Or Carlton," Juliet added.

"Or Lassy," Shawn agreed.

"You guys aren't armed, are you?" she asked, hopeful.

"Uh, no we are not," Shawn said then scratched the side of his head, obviously not concerned.

"Both of you should really consider getting guns and learn defensive shooting." They looked unconvinced—well, Gus looked a little nervous—and Juliet gripped their arms a little harder to drive home her point. "I'm serious. Undercover work is dangerous and I can't believe the Chief would send you two out here without some way to protect yourselves."

"You two badges are supposed to protect us."

She shook her head. "We can't—and we won't—be with you at all times."

"Wow. Admit it. You just want to play house," the psychic said in his low "serious" voice.

"Shut up, Shawn," she sighed and let go of their arms.

At that time her partner appeared in the entryway, looking defeated.

"Chief Vick thought it would be wisest to have our usual help close at hand and that it would be suspicious if we kept bringing them up to snoop around. As if we would **let** them," he growled, looking both very depressed and infuriated.

"Four heads are better than two, I guess," Juliet grumbled and followed Carlton back into the kitchen, the other two men trailing behind.

Gus leaned over the large welcoming gift that Janey had given them. "I see you got Starbucks, while we got some artsy café crap. Mind if we trade?"

Carlton jerked the basket away. "No! This is our gift basket, Guster!"

Shawn whined, "C'mon Lassy—"

"_Roque_, Spencer. My name is _Roque_. _Dallas_."

The psychic glowered. "Fine, you can keep your coffee. But I hope you can live with the fact that you're not very neighborly."

"Spencer," Lassiter growled,

"I'm Nelson. Like Billy Bass Nelson, original bassist for Funkadelic. And he's Grant,"

Gus grinned smugly, "Like Carey Grant."

Juliet pouted and pointed a finger acussingly at them. "You guys got to choose your names, didn't you?"

"Duh," Shawn said smartly. "And Buzz got to pick out your names. The chief told us."

"Who left the "Doris Day & Rock Hudson Comedy Collection" in the breakroom in the first place?" Carlton complained, but then both detectives saw the very guilty looks on Shawn and Gus' faces and the senior of the pair shouted, "Oh no, if you're the reason we have these stupid names—"

Shawn tried to give Carlton a playful punch on the shoulder. "C'mon, Lassy! It's fun. Rock Hudson was a very handsome man. And Doris is a very beautiful woman. They were a great team and so are you two."

"Spencer, I swear to God—"

Juliet grimaced. "You suggested them to Buzz, didn't you?"

The psychic began to investigate their gift baskets again. "Guilty as charged. Karen-uh, Chief Vick thought it was funny."

"I will shoot you if you don't put that chocolate down," Carlton warned in deadly serious voice.

Shawn dropped the Godiva back onto the counter and took a step back. "Well, we should probably get going. Don't want to overstay our welcome."

"The four of us should do dinner sometime. You know, compare our ideas and make sure we're all on the same track for this investigation," Gus suggested and Juliet nodded.

Shawn added, "We're going to the Williams' for dinner tonight."

"We're going next door to the Matthensons and then the Williams' tomorrow."

"Wednesday then. We'll order some pizza and talk business," Shawn said as the group walked towards the front door, still open.

Carlton groaned, apparently not thrilled that he'd be spending more time with the psychic and his sidekick.

"See you guys around. And stay safe," she added quietly.

Shawn nodded and gave a very earnest, "Will do, Jules."

As she shut the door, the head detective sighed.

"Well, we should probably start that investigation."

They carried a box labeled "china" over to a section of the hallway wall between the kitchen doorway and the laundry room; Carlton tapped the wall which sounded a bit different, a little hallow, while Juliet opened the box, revealing not dishes, but equipment.

"This is the one. Stand back," he ordered as he pulled out a crowbar.

In his pink polo shirt and carefully creased trousers, he slipped the forked end under the relievo section of the wall. The painted wood yielded and fell to the floor with a thud, showing the large doorway size opening to the basement. After the murders of the McLellons, the realtors though it would be wisest to simply hide the crime scene as though it had never been there. Even though the house hadn't been occupied for over five years, it had preserved the area from any outside influences.

Juliet pulled a flashlight out of the box and pointed it into the black and her partner felt around on the wall until a light turned on, illuminating the basement.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Let's get it on," she said with mock seriousness.

He handed her a pair of surgical gloves and she happily put them on, snapping the latex as she walked down the stairs.

"We have to wrap this up by six, so we can get ready for dinner. Bonnie wants us over by seven," she called over her shoulder.

He was carrying the box, the contents jangling. "When I was first married Victoria, we used to go to dinner at her friends' houses. I can only hope that the Matthensons are better cooks."

Juliet smirked, but secretly hoped the same.

"I'm sure the crime lab gathered most of the evidence, but I'm going to do some sample collections in the air ducts, along the wall—jeez, there's a lot of dust in here," she commented, wondering if she out to be wearing a dust mask.

"You just follow the protocol and I'll make the video."

As she moved around the now bare basement, Carlton pulled a camcorder out of the box and it made a beep as he began to record.

"2:54 pm, July 24th. Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the Santa Barbara Police Department with Junior Detective Juliet O'Hara of the Santa Barbara Police Department in the former home of Denise and Dave McLellon, who were both found strangled in their basement five years ago. Address 450 Forest Drive, The Estates of Arcadia.

"Over the past five years there have been a handful of unusual crimes at the Estates and the department believes that they're all related. The first crime was the murder of the McLellons. The following year Leann and Howard West found their three dogs are poisoned in the backyard, the same morning Gigi and Henry Shepard found the family puppy hanging from their front tree. Then two years ago, Florence and Adrian Callahan found a dead pig on their doorstep; the pig was stolen from a local butcher shop and it should be noted that the Callahans are Jewish, so it is a possible hate crime. Roxy and Ives Logan reported their house vandalized in February.

"Ellen & Will Lincoln found their fourteen year old daughter Monica murdered in her bedroom thirty days ago, on June 14th. It was this case that Officers Kohl and Brian both came to the agreement that they had hit a dead end in the investigations; Chief Vick decided that a fresh perspective would help solve these cold cases, so she assigned O'Hara and I the cases. For our investigation we will be undercover, posing as prospective homebuyers. We are going by the aliases "Roque and Doris Dallas" and living in the McLellons' former home."

"We won't be calling the department psychic for exorcism, though," Juliet called out, teasing.

Carlton didn't look impressed and simply frowned at her before returning to his monologue.

"What the SBPD found in each case was nothing, just impeccably manicured homes and a community of neighbors who professed total ignorance towards the crimes here—"

"Which is totally weird considering how nutty the people are here about being neighborly," she interjected again as she strode by, taking out a small box of surveillance cameras they would be installing around the eves of the house.

Her partner made a noise of agreement, then continued.

"Background checks on all the victims and residents of the Estates are stable professional people, with no history of violence, domestic discord or mental illness. Currently all the residents of the Estates are considered suspects, including victims, excluding the murdered ones. Obviously. Other possibilities include the employees at The Estates, such as the grounds keepers, The Estates of Arcadia Country Club workers, the security guards, and the management staff. There is also the possibility that delivery men, postal employees, etc. could have picked out their victims.

"We will be considering people who moved into The Estates even after the crimes first started; there is a possibility that the person or persons involved moved into the community to continue their criminal activity in closer proximity to the victims."

"I've done all I can in here, Carlton," Juliet interrupted.

He turned off the camera and looked at the small baggies of evidence she had collected, then nodded. "Let's get out of here. The dust is smothering."

Juliet grabbed the "china" box and followed her partner up the stairs. He pulled a caulking gun out and said,

"Well, I'm going to put this panel back up and I'll take the collections and video down to the drop spot tomorrow."

She nodded and turned towards the stairs where her luggage still waited. "I'm going to find something to wear to dinner."

* * *

Bonnie Matthenson presented a platter with an array of vegetables, breads, and a Corningware dish with stuffed bell peppers.

"We weren't sure what you could eat so I thought I'd air on the edge of safety; everything here is gluten, dairy, and sugar free as well as vegan and kosher." Her pretty face darkened with concern. "You're not raw vegans are you?"

"No," Carlton said, now dressed in something more similar to what he wore to the office.

"This all looks delicious," Juliet said enthusiastically as the food was put on the table before them and began to serve herself and her partner.

"Thank you! Michael and I just finished evening cooking classes with Wolfgang Puck. I think the new course on Italian starts at the end of the month—we could all go together."

Carlton looked horrified at the stuffed bell peppers and Juliet herself was skeptical, but managed, "That'd be super."

Bonnie's fork was poised over her plate and she was smiling back and forth between Juliet and Lassiter expectantly.

"Mmm," Juliet offered as she took her first bite and nudged Lassiter's foot with her own.

"Oh! This is pretty good," Carlton said, almost like he was admitting he was wrong and Bonnie looked incredibly relieved.

"I'm so glad. I tried out a new recipe for the tofurkey filling.

Michael finally broke up the talk of food with a clearing of his throat and said, "So Roque, Doris, what made you two decided to move to The Estates of Arcadia?"

"We've always dreamed of living in a gated community," said Carlton, shifting his fork through the peas and carrots on his plate.

Michael was quick to correct. "Oh, we don't call it a "gated community;" that has such a negative connotation in today's society. Here at The Estates we prefer the term "independent plural neighborhood."

"That's a mouthful," Juliet frowned.

"But politically correct. Wine?" he offered and both detectives nodded.

"Doris" made her next move carefully after a sip of the alcohol. "Now when Carlton's assistant came to pick out our house for us, she heard a rumour or something about a murder?"

Michael and his wife shared an uncomfortable look, fidgeting in their seats and Juliet knew she had hit a sore spot. "Unfortunately, The Estates aren't perfect. In the past five years a few of our neighbors have been killed under unusual circumstances—but don't worry! We have very good security here at the Estates."

Now it was the head detective's turn to play. His face became a convincing look of concern and his hand went up to her shoulder, squeezing it in what looked like a worried manner. "They haven't caught the killer?"

"No. But don't worry about it," Bonnie assured. "We live in a very safe place."

Juliet gave a warm smile. "I'm sure."

Despite Bonnie's smile, her body language read agitated. "I toured through your house when it was first put on the market and it's just the cutest. Marble counter tops in the kitchen with plenty of room for hired caters when you throw parties, the master bedroom with two walk-in closets and a laundry chute, a large subjacent den with such a wonderful view of my hydrangeas that I'm jealous, and I think the little guest room down the hall from the master bedroom would make the cutest nursery."

"I thought the same thing."

Juliet looked over at Carlton in shock, whom was busying himself with a bite of rice; was he just playing the part or was he serious? She decided that she was going to have to steer the topic back towards the murders again.

"I just wish that we had a basement in our house," she said forlornly and Michael choked on his wine.

"A basement?" Bonnie said faintly.

"Roque" nodded. "Yeah, I wanted to make a place for a foozeball table."

Juliet sniggered at the thought of Lassiter playing foozeball—it seemed more a game for Buzz McNabb than the head detective. She glanced up at Bonnie and Michael, sensing that they were reaching the point where they might become suspicious of the talk that was centering around the location of the McLellons' deaths.

"I love the bell peppers, Bonnie. You'll have to share the recipe with me," Juliet said before taking another bite of the tofu and rice filling.

"No problem," the other woman replied with a weak smile.

There was an awkward silence, nothing more than the sound of forks against plates, the sipping of water from cups and wine from glasses. Juliet wondered if she ought to make conversation again, but decided against it, unsure what exactly to say. One could only talk of murder and vegan delights for so long. Michael thankfully saved her the task when he asked,

"So Roque, what kind of work do you do?"

Carlton Lassiter took pride in his work, even if it was a bogus job. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his seat. "I'm the head marketer for Chicago Medical Supplies where I worked at the New York distribution center; the company is opening a branch here in Santa Barbara County and Doris and I thought it would be fun to start a new life here in California."

Both the Matthensons looked impressed. "Interesting. And you, Doris?"

"I work from home." Juliet's answer on the other hand didn't get the same look, so she gave and explanation for Doris' lame answer. "I'm a trust fund baby. My parents both worked on Wall Street and when they passed away, they left me with a lot of money."

Now it was Bonnie's turn to speak. "Oh, Wall Street. So you lived in New York."

Juliet mustered all the pride she would have given to Miami. "Yes. Manhattan: born and bred. That's where Roque and I met."

Her partner took the cue and began to recite the back story they had been practicing for the past two weeks, adding their own details, building the characters, shaping and molding their false history as Doris and Roque.

"I had traveled to New York to meet with the head of the Columbia medical department at business lunch, but I arrived an hour early, so I decided to wait at the restaurant's bar until everyone arrived. That's when I noticed this pretty gal," he draped his arm around her shoulders, "sitting at a table all by herself."

"My friends were supposed to meet me and never showed up. Traffic," Juliet said with a smile, relaxing a little into her "husband's" shoulder.

Carlton smiled at her, pleasantly, and for a moment the junior detective admired how well her partner played the role. "I went over to her, asked her if I could by her a drink. Three hours later, I realised I had missed my business lunch but I had found the love of my life."

"How romantic. Just like a fairytale." Bonnie turned adoring eyes to the man next to her. "Michael and I met when I was at Carmel, golfing. Michael designs golf clubs for Nike. Anyway, he was helping promote Nike's new drivers and we played a round together. The rest is history, as they say."

Bonnie's hand moved slightly next to her plate and Carlton asked, "What are you writing?"

The petite woman looked embarrassed and blushed. "I can be terrible at remembering information, so I take notes and then compile them in my roster for The Estates. Plus it keeps me from making embarrassing mistakes when I gossip later."

"Well, I hope you're writing down something good," Juliet said with a grin.

They all laughed cheerfully.

"So how long have you been married?" Michael asked.

Juliet played with dinner roll on her plate. "Five years, come November. You?"

"Nine this May."

Carlton shifted in his seat. "So Michael. Tell me about your job."

The rest of dinner continued with discussion of golf clubs, golf balls, golf courses, and of course, golfing. Juliet had never been interested in the game and it was taking all her self-discipline not to yawn. As Michael took their plates, Bonnie handed her a printout for the month of July.

"Here's the monthly activity calendar. I've highlighted all the activities you _must_ attend—I want to make sure you both get the full Estates experience."

Juliet winced. "That's a lot of things to do."

"It's not as hectic as it looks," the brunette assured.

"Dessert is Bonnie's blue ribbon pound cake with strawberries and whipped cream," Michael called out from the kitchen.

"I love pound cake," Carlton said in a very serious tone.

"Ooh look honey. The Estates Couples Club is doing a group kayaking adventure off the coast. We should sign up," Juliet said enthusiastically, pointing to a detail on the calendar.

"Oh, you're already enrolled in the Couples Club," Michael said as they walked into the front room. "It's one of those mandatory things that the Estates expects. And the kayaking trips are always fun. Lloyd Jacoby, one of the residents, is friends with the owner of the kayaking service, so we get to sightsee in the really cool places."

Juliet sat down on the couch, Carlton heavy on the cushion beside her. His arm rested behind her on the back of the couch as she continued her fervent reading of the paper. "And here's a Sunday for team golfing, a dinner party at the Duffs, "luncheon on the beach"—that sounds fun, a poker night for the men, a neighborhood bake-off, Paper Lantern night—honey, what do you suppose that is? A USO collection drive, "Bike the Estates", a barbeque at the Callahans, let's sign up for the tour of homes!"

"O'Hara," Carlton sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes and Juliet felt a rise of panic as she looked at him in horror. His eyes got large and she knew that he realised his mistake.

"O'Hara?" Michael echoed, looking confused.

"Oh, Roque," she stuttered quickly and then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "It's my pet name. I'm a HUGE _"Gone with the Wind_" fan and **kitten** here calls me "Scarlett O'Hara." You know, after my favourite character."

This was actually a big lie—she had never actually seen _"Gone with the Wind,"_ but it was only thing her mind went to.

"And she hates it when I call her that in public," Lassiter added, looking a little surprised and with an edge of panic still remaining in his voice.

"That is SO cute," Bonnie gushed, handing them dessert plates of pound cake.

Juliet let her body relax and gave a friendly smile to her "husband," who looked a little more collected now that they had covered up that mistake.

Carlton spooned a large scoop of strawberries onto her plate as he cleared his throat and attempted changing the subject. "Bonnie, do you think I could have a copy of your neighborhood roster? I'm terrible with names and I'd hate to insult anyone because I confused them with someone else."

Juliet was impressed that he had thought of that; with Bonnie's notes on each resident, they were saving themselves time and trouble. Bonnie obviously thought it was a good idea, too, though for different reasons. She clapped her hands together and declared,

"Oh! What a great idea! I'll make copies tonight and I'm sure I have a loose binder somewhere… and I'll bring it over in the morning!"

Lassiter smiled. "Sounds good."

Juliet decided that Bonnie would probably be the easiest person here at the Estates to get to know and she wondered how long it would take for she and Doris to be best friends.

"Bonnie, this pound cake is just heavenly," Carlton sighed.

"I'm so glad you like it."

Juliet gave a thoughtful pause, ate a bit of cake, and then spoke. "How many people live here?"

Michael answered. "Well, there are fifty-seven houses here, but only twenty-nine are occupied… hmmm, I would say under a hundred residents."

"Wow, that's a lot of people to know."

Bonnie smiled proudly. "We're friends with everyone here and I'm sure you will be, too. You even have a head start with Mr. Nelson and Mr. Grant."

"Never expected that," Juliet replied weakly.

The four finished their pound cake and by then it was nine, so the Dallas' decided it was time to leave for the evening.

"Thank you for the lovely dinner, Bonnie," Juliet said, hugging her neighbor as Carlton and Michael shook hands

"It was a pleasure having both of you over. I'll see you guys in the morning," Bonnie said, her husband's arm over her shoulder.

As they walked across the lawn to their own house, her partner's arm over her shoulder, she commented quietly.

"Well, they seem like nice people."

He snorted. "I didn't believe that people like her existed anywhere outside of movies."

"She's trying very hard to play down anything that's happened here."

"Everyone is." He looked over at her. "What did your instincts say?"

"I think she'll be a good source of information about the rest of the people here." She shrugged. "Hard to say if she or her husband are involved though."

"Yeah, nothing weird going on here."

As they walked in the front door, Carlton began to read from the calendar

"Hah! It says you're expected to join them on their run in the morning."

She winced. Juliet hated running in early in the morning. "What time?"

"Eight."

Slightly relieved, she made her way over to a stack of unpacked boxes in the living room to the right. "Oh, that's not too bad. I can at least meet some of the other people living here."

Juliet dug through the box labeled "Doris'," pulling out a few of her DVDs.

"Where should I set my movies?"

Carlton shrugged, shifting through a box filled with books. "By the TV. What did you bring?"

"Just old movies and chick flicks."

He glanced over and wrinkled his nose at what she held. "_Legally Blonde_? _Bend It Like Beckham_? _Sex and the City_? _James Blunt in Concert_? Oh, _The Male Animal_. This is a pretty good one."

"What did you bring?"

"Just a few of my favourites."

He carried the box of books upstairs and left her by herself.

* * *

As Juliet got ready for bed, her partner was having an ongoing conversation with her; she was using the hallway bathroom right outside the master bedroom, she washing her face and brushing her teeth while he watched TV from the bed. He was trying to tell her something, but he was drowned out by the running water in the sink. Juliet tied her hair back into a ponytail, pinning her bangs back with a bobby pin.

"Hold on, I can hardly hear you," she called out as she made her way out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom.

"I was saying—ahhh!"

"What?"

"What's that on your face?" he asked, recoiling slightly.

She pursed her lips as she gave him an irritated look. "It's a mud mask, Carlton. I don't just wake up looking the way I do. A little effort goes into it."

He didn't look impressed. "As I was saying, I think that we should compile a prioritized list of suspects, and go after them one by one. We're bound to get something useful from someone." He glanced at the alarm clock by his bed. "Well, we should probably get some sleep. And you should probably get that off your face," he snickered.

"If anyone needs the relaxation of a deep pore cleanse, it's you," she said, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the door.

"I'll pass."

As she shut the door behind her, he said, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Carlton," she called back.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ "The Estates" is based off the gated community (or "independent plural neighborhood") I grew up in, people included. Bonnie and Michael are based off the couple that lived across the street from me and my family and, yes, they have an actual list for the different friends they had collected. My parents and I fell under the "has adopted child" category and from what I understand they're still on their quest for a gay couple. LOL. You can't make this crazy shit up!_


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